


Like The Wolf

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Group Targets [11]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: Gareth is becoming snappish, and his comments biting.





	

Gareth is becoming snappish and his comments biting.

He grinds his jaws irritably, rubbing at his temples. His PA shrinks away from him, metaphorical tail between her legs. “I will need tomorrow off, understand?” he barks at her. She nods frantically and he sighs. “And the rest of this afternoon.”

Gareth stalks out of the building, shoulders unconsciously raised to make himself bigger and more intimidating. He even gets his own seat on the packed tube, breathing through his mouth to avoid the vile smells that, in the few hours since he took the tube to work, have already become more potent.

At home he paces his apartment for at least an hour, willing himself to wait just a few more hours. For some reason it's much worse today than it was last month and Mallory’s fairly sure that, come tomorrow, his muscles are going to ache as if they had been ripped to shreds by wild horses the night before.

Which, come to think of it, is not too far from the truth. Apart from the wild horses part; they know to pick their battles.

When, eventually, the streetlights glow tangerine on the damp streets outside and the city is as dark as ever it gets, Gareth is just about ready to tear his own skin off. He grabs a sports bag and stuffs it with loose, comfortable clothes, fairly running down the stairs from his flat and onto the street below. He jogs to the end of the road and gets in the car which waits for him.

“Sir,” James says, pulling away before Gareth has time to shut the door, let alone strap himself in. At the red light, James’ leg bounces uncontrollably on the floor and he growls slightly, low in his chest.

They speed along out of the city in silence, down dark country roads into the woods and meadows. Clouds of sparrows swirl and dive in the rear window and the headlamps illuminate startled foxes and cat’s eyes in a long ribbon before them. Gareth rolls the window down and sticks his head out, breathing in the heavy, damp air.

James looks across and grins, chuckling to himself.

They pull up in a short dirt drive, cut off by a rusting gate which is slowly shedding its blue paint. Another car is already there, under the canopy of the sweet chestnuts and pines that envelop the road in darkness. James turns off the headlamps and their eyes adjust quickly to the sudden gloom as they scale the fence and trot down the path, pale flecks of chalk part-buried in the ground catching the moonlight with a curious glow.

At the end of the long path is an enormous Scot’s pine, low, curving branches holding Q, pale skin in stark contrast to his dark surroundings. He taps urgently on his leg with long, elegant fingers, but slides out of the tree upon seeing them. “Is it time?” he whines.

Gareth drops his bag in a hollow at the base of the pine. “Where are the others?”

“Here.” Bill and Eve are leaning against two skinny, papery silver birches at the treeline.

Gareth nods. “Then yes; it is time.”

They strip in silence, the effort of remaining human becoming too great for conversation. Pale skin gleams in the dim moonlight, unashamed but waiting. Gareth rolls his neck, takes a deep breath, and _relaxes._

His back arches and he grunts with discomfort, joints screaming at the unnatural positions they are forced into. His face elongates, teeth grow longer and sharper, hands clench into claws and he lets out a long, guttural howl.

* * *

_Pack? Packmates? Where?_

_Here._

_Pup shakes his fur out happily, and is licked for his troubles by Pale. Black bounces on her paws excitedly and Grey runs a ring around the group. Alpha licks his own brown coat and beckons them to him with a toss of his head._

_They charge in wild circles around the copse in the middle of the clearing, racing and playing, mock fighting and licking each other's ears._

_Alpha stops and Grey barks the others into line. In an arrow they spread into the bracken and rhododendrons; Alpha on point, flanked by Pup and Pale and then Black and Grey. They take down two roe deer, dragging them to the copse to share. Alpha takes the finest meat, as is his due, before the others set to devouring whatever is left, crunching bones with relish._

_After, Alpha leaves them to their own devices, lying under the pine and watching in amusement as Black and Grey take it in turn to attempt tree climbing. Pale and Pup vanish into the undergrowth and stay there, but when dawn starts to break Grey and Black curl up on either side of their alpha and sleep, jaws pillowed on their paws._

* * *

Gareth awakes slowly, and just as painfully as he had imagined. Possibly more, actually; think wild horses, quickly followed by trampled by a herd of stampeding rhinoceri.

He sits up slowly and fumbles in his sports bag for sweatpants and a hoodie and pulls them on as well as he can without waking his sleeping friends. Bill’s arm is flung across his waist and Eve’s legs are tangled with his own, which makes the act rather difficult. He is excessively proud of himself when neither stir, Bill’s snoring if anything getting louder.

Q pads back to the tree, naked and yawning. He grins at Gareth. “Morning, Alpha- Gareth, even.”

Gareth smiles in sympathy. “Morning.” He lobs James’ and Q’s clothes at the younger man. “You get better at collecting the scattered parts of your brain eventually.”

Bill rolls onto his back with a groan, opens his eyes and makes a curious “grruf?” noise. Q giggles softly and Gareth drops Bill’s trousers on his head.

Bill shuts his eyes again and laughs. “All right?” he asks.

“Hungry,” Eve mumbles, blinking in the sunlight.

James, sweatpants low on his hips, wraps an arm around Q’s shoulders, opens his mouth like he might speak.

“ _No_ ,” Q says, and James pouts. “Puns right now are not acceptable.”


End file.
